Friday, November 5, 2010

so I was digging through my Itouch....

A decade of infections, difficulty breathing, snoring like a jackhammer, and breath barely controlled by constant brushing and gum chewing fueled my mission to have those horrible lumps of useless lymph tissue removed. This is my (probably far too) detailed account of my experience.

It was a chilly February morning at 530 am when my lovely mother brought me to the hospital to begin my journey. We arrived and sat, numbered paper slip in hand to register at admitting, not much time passed until I got to register and was instructed to go upstairs to another waiting room, a nurse would call me to prepare me for surgery. We sat, bored and anxious in the sixth floor waiting room with about ten other patients and their families. After about an hour, a nurse called my name and led me to a small room where she handed me a gown and told me to strip and put all of my belongings in a clear blue plastic bag. All I noticed about the room was the large window with a great view into the windows of other hospital rooms that she was instructing me to strip in front of. Oh well, I changed as she asked me questions from the other side of the curtain. Once I'd changed she came back and continued asking questions. At one point she started rambling about Haiti and people stealing children, I stopped listening after a while until she told me to go back to the waiting room ( yep, naked except for a gown and lil foot covers) and wait for another attendant to come and get me for surgery. My mother and I continued waiting until finally about another hour later an attendant began calling names and checking wrist bands, once we were all accounted for; we were led (more like herded) down a cold windy hallway to another waiting room (yes three waiting rooms so far) to wait for surgery. I was beginning to think that they'd lost the operating room and were stalling.

After not too long, a nurse came to get me, she stuck a hair cover on me and led me down another cold hallway to the operating room. I was instructed to lay down on the table and she got me a warm blanket. It was freezing in there! My surgeon came in and asked how I was and then some guy started trying to find a vein (I can point out a few really good ones, and I'm sitting in the dark) he poked me a few times before the anaesthesiologist took over and did it in one try, she said "goodnight" and then mmm sleep.

I woke up in recovery. There was no pain, just a groggy sort of feeling, like waking up from a very deep sleep suddenly and feeling very heavy in your bed. They gave me a few shots of morphine and gave me ice chips.

After about an hour when I was fully awake, a nice man named Joe came and wheeled me out to my mother ( who was by this point waiting in a FOURTH waiting room) to join us on the way to a room where I would stay til I had a chance to take some pain meds and get all my stuff in order to be discharged. Other than being nauseous every time I moved, it wasn't too bad. I wasn't in too much pain, and felt like I would be all ready to go back to work. I was wrong, so very wrong.

My mother wheeled me down to the car where I struggled to get in without vomiting And we went home. Didn't even make it into the house before I vomited in the garden twice. my husband got me upstairs and situated on the couch and he went to get my pain meds.

Since I got home I have been taking the maximum dose of my pain meds and since day two that hasn't seemed like enough. If I do anything (literally, anything) I feel as though I've run a marathon and need to rest. Every time I swallow ( even just saliva) I get a shooting pain through my throat and into my brain. When I eat, my eyes water and my whole body jerks from the pain of swallowing. I've lost weight and I feel malnourished. I find that if I allow he pain meds to wear off, I'm in so much pain that I can barely swallow the meds.

On day four I was about to run out of meds and was terrified. I was absolutely sure that if I couldn't get a refill of the prescription that I was going to die that night. The pain in my ears had started up by then.

To sum it all up (so far anyway) I have suffered from severe infections my whole life, and this was by far the worst pain I have ever experienced.

As it stands right now (day seven) I'm not quite sure it was worth it. Bit then again I may just be going insane because I haven't slept or eaten in seven days and for most of it I've been drugged with some pretty heavy narcotics.

It is 2 in The morning and my ears hurt so badly I could scream, but won't because that would surely make it worse

Update:Today is day eight, 2 in the morning again. I woke up to excruciating pain in my ears and throat. When will this end? I'm so exhausted, I can't sleep more than a few hours at a time. I think that the absolute worst part of my recovery is the discouraging mornings. "

I started writing on paper at that point because I remember the headaches and ear pain were pretty unbearable most of the time. day 19 was when I finally felt like a functioning person. went back to work on day 21 and had to leave early and take an extra day because i was so dizzy and lightheaded.

in retrospect I'm glad I had it done, I haven't been *really* sick since the surgery, and I can breathe! it's amazing how much more energy you have when you can actually breathe :o)